http://slow.writerscafe.org/smithkayla229 The original writings of author Kayla Smith en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776028599 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 I’m lying in bed listening to the sound of myself breathing. My tiny dog is burrowed under my sweatshirt transforming into a personal heating pad. I focus on my breathing as I force my eyes open with another sip of fizzing, orange soda. I’m entering the toughest part of the night: my .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1859497/ i have darkness Darling, You just love me so much, it turned beautiful.  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1765480/ I hear the silent singing,the hushed carols I hear. Those of the bruised and beaten, each singing their story as they should be.The single mother singing as she fights for her baby girl’s next meal.The unemployed man singing as he searches for a job that doesn’t exist.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1723905/ The dreaded sound of a cork. Pop. I turn the volume up on the television in a failed attempt to drown it out.The wine demands to be heard. Words begin to slur and the wine becomes incoherent.Pop. Another cork. Voices are raised and tempers flare."HEY!""Why the f**** are you .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1713666/ This is the story of the girl in blue. She died December 24, 1962. The poor girl was hit by a train. The girl in blue loved her sister. Her sister hated her. The girl in blue would do anything to protect her sister. Her sister would do anything to protect herself. The girl in blue was born Sunday.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1705348/ Something has been lost.Over generations, it has disappeared into hatefulness of society.  There are the selected few who still practice the forgotten art. You see these camouflaged heroes in broad daylight:Opening doors for the elderly,Returning a dropped item to a struggling&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1705325/ Wanna know how to survive?Keep your mouth shut!No one twists words that are unspoken.No one judges silence. Silence is golden. It's your lifeline. It keeps you safe. But then again, silence is deadly. Every thought.Every word.Racing through your head. Never stoppin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1702237/ I run my fingertips over the scratches carefully placed on the steel box by Father.  Weird squiqqles, called cursive, from our home. Home. I don’t even remember home. All I know is that it is long gone. Destroyed. From what father said it was beautiful.  Father was a teacher. Fath.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1701737/ The footsteps grew closer. Louder. They were so close. Sucking in a quick breath, I said a quick prayer. Closer. Closer. It stopped.  Are they gone? Please tell me they’re gone! I let go of my breath. It echoed throughout the steel box that I’ve been forced to call home. I hear no.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1701734/ I'm the last human. The last human and Im a slave...I'm foreign. They're afraid. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/smithkayla229/1701141/